


Please forgive me

by Deancebra



Series: Please!verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger, Angry Sam, Fights, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Scared Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deancebra/pseuds/Deancebra
Summary: Ever wondered what happened the night where John killed himself and the family? Why Sam decided to start a discussing which resulted in his dad driving like that? This is were you find the answer.This is not necessary to read for understanding part 1 or the parts coming after, but it should satisfy some curiosity :)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyHawke72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHawke72/gifts).



> Gifted to the wonderful beta behind please don´t judge me. 
> 
> If you havent read that one, this piece will not make very much sense.

Fun fact, it had never bothered Sam Winchester to present as a beta. It had been satisfying in a lot of ways, actually, knowing that their dad had not managed to get a single alpha-son. He was also less affected by smells, by hormones and was not ruled by this apparent need to breed. At the same time he was not stigmatized as omega-males where. He had seen how Dean had struggled with that, trying to convince everybody that he had not changed, just because it turned out that he could carry children. And he had not, really, but society had seen him as weak and fragile in a lot of ways that his big brother weren’t.

John had been a shit excuse for a father before Dean was kidnapped, he had been even shittier while Dean was gone and after. Holding down a job had been difficult for him before, but after he pretty much just used his time on drinking. For some reason it did not help having Dean back. It seemed that the guilt of seeing his oldest son did it. Seeing how the experience made Dean flinch if alphas got too close, how he always looked scared and haunted. How he was unable to sleep if he was not beside Sam… Sam could not blame their dad for that, not really. There were times where he thought Dean would have been better of if he had died back then.

Somehow his older brother managed to claw his way back to life. He was not like he had been, but he managed somehow. When Sam presented as a beta, Dean had taken him out for dinner. Their dad had been furious, and Sam himself had been more than thrilled. Trying to hide it as a big teen had nearly been impossible, which had frustrated their dad even further.

Dean had moved out as soon as he turned 18, taking Sam with him. Pleading for custody had not really been a problem, given that Sam more than once had been in contact with social services, especially while Dean had been missing. It had not always been easy to hide the places where his skin had a sickly blue-purple colour.

No need to say, that holidays had not really been a big thing in their family. The first few years John had been to fucking furious to even consider talking with them, even though they had invited him several times. Then, one year he had invited them to celebrate the holidays with him, and they had agreed on that. That was their first real Christmas together after Dean and Sam had moved out. It was pretty successful everything considered. John had not been unreasonable drunk or mean, nor had either of the boys started any emotional talks. While it had felt a little like tiptoing around each other, it also settled something in Sam, knowing that there weren’t hate between them.

 

The year after, John had invited them again. They had accepted, hoping that they would actually manage to get a _real_ Christmas together. Things had been strained somewhat the year before, and since they had seen each other a few times in the year that had passed, they figured that it would be better that year.

That it was, until Christmas eve.

“I am looking forward to either of you boys bringing home some girls.” John had started. “I would love grandkids to spoil at some point.” He was drunk. His voice slurring ever so slightly. It agitated Sam. One thing was that it bothered Dean, made him completely unable to see how well he and Castiel could fit together. But Sam himself had just fucking had _enough_.

“Why do you care so much that it girls we bring home?” He spat out, voice bitter enough for even Dean to turn his head. John always reacted, whereas his older brother usually tried to ignore the fights or calm both of them down.

“None of my boys are fucking _faggots_.” John shot back, the usually subdued anger in his eyes flaring up.

“Why does that matter so much? Shouldn’t our happiness, that it is decent humans we bring home, matter more?”

“As long as it is girls!” His father snarled, leaning over the table.

“Goddammit Dad, WHY DOES IT MATTER?” Sam’s voice was a roar, deep and dangerous enough for Dean to wince.

“Because I sure as hell haven’t raised a pair of week boys wanting to spread their legs for some random knothead, taking it like fucking whores!” John growled, raising.

 _The soft touch of lips, stubbles against his chin. The deep voice moaning his name like a praise. The gentle touches._ Sam tried to push away the memories. _How they had agreed that it would never happen again. Or, rather Sam telling him that it was so. The hurt look. Eyes usually so filled with laughter, life and love, suddenly filled with tears._

_“Did this mean nothing to you, Sam?” he was looking so hurt. Everything Sam wanted to was to take the smaller man in his arms, tell him that he meant so much to him. That it had been great, and that maybe, just maybe, it could be more than_

_“It was just a fuck, yeah.” It had been a lie. Of course it had been a lie._

_“You just keep telling yourself that. Once you come out of the claws of your father, realise what this means to you, I may have moved on Sam.”_

_And Sam knew that. He feared that._

“… And if you for one second think that you are welcome under MY roof with another man in a tow, you can think again!” What John had said in the meantime, Sam had no idea.

“YOU are just an old, mean drunk! You are a shitty excuse for a father, always have been. Do you really believe that I would bring home anyone, man or woman, to listen to you shit? Dean has been more of a father for me.”

“BECAUSE HE STOLE YOU FROM ME!” John was red in the face, the smell of angry alpha making the room foul. Dean looked like he was close to being sick.

“I _CHOSE_ TO LEAVE YOU IDIOT! You think Dean could have done a thing if I had wanted to stay?” Sam yelled back. “You beat me up. You were drunk most of the time, taking out your frustrations on me. I DID NOT DESERVE THAT! Do you have any idea how many times I kept the social services at bay? Telling them that I have been in fight with other boys or with Dean for that matter? You are a fucking idiot!”

“You shut it boy! I did well by you, made sure that you were clothed and fed and attended school!”

“Hah! Most of the time it was the other way around. But I am not surprised that you do not remember that, given how drunk you were!”

“You ungrateful bitch.” John growled, getting the entire way up. He turned around, grapping the keys to the pick-up he used at work. The door slammed as he left, then the machine roared to life.

 

“Goddamit.” Dean whispered. “He is too drunk. Too angry. He should not be driving.”

Sam watched his older brother pull himself from somewhere dark, puzzling the pieces ripped up together and move.

“I need to stop him. You stay here, in case he comes back.” No, Dean did not for a second believe that John would return the first few hours, but not having Sam there would enhance the chances that their Dad got home with him.

“Yeah. Keep your phone on sound.”

Dean nodded, took the keys to the impala and left Sam behind in the cold kitchen, still smelling like anger, fear and something rotten that he could not put a finger on.

 

For some reason, the left behind smells did not seem to vanish as Sam sat in the kitchen, waiting. His thoughts kept going back to the fight with his dad. Was John the reason he had never even tried a relationship with a man? It had been that one time. It had felt so right. Like he had finally found the piece of him missing or something.

He had spread his legs like a whore, let the other man fuck him into oblivion, to the place where everything that mattered was the two of them.

And Sam had cut him off afterwards. Too scared of his own emotions, of his family’s reaction. Too scared that he was somehow less of a man because he had _liked_ it.

At some point he realised that he was crying. For what he had lost. For what he was never going to get back, because he would always be too much of a coward to call him back, tell him how he felt. Because his dad had beat it in to him that boys could not like boys and still be men. That faggots where weak. That he should hate himself if he ever turned into that, hate everyone who were.

Knowing that it was his dad who were the weak one, too afraid of love to embrace all of its faces, did not help. It still did not change that Sam was scared.

Besides, exactly that relationship would never be approved by anyone. Most of society accepted male/male pairings if they could reproduce. That would never happen, given that both of them were betas.

So maybe, maybe just because of that, it bothered him to be beta.

 

 

The ringtone dragged him out of his mind. The caller ID was Dean. Sam closed his eyes for just a second, wishing that his brother called with good news.

_“He is dead.”_

“Dead?” Sam repeated, dumpstruck.

_“I think so. There is so much blood Sammy. He can’t be alive, no one lives with that little blood left in their bodies.”_

Sam wanted to yell. Tell Dean that he could not just fucking call and tell him that he thought their dad was dead. Who did that? But before he could even get enough air for that, Dean started to talk again.

_“It was my fault Sammy. They are all dead because of me. I could not stop him. If I had not hesitated. If I had stopped the fight. If I had just driven a little faster I would have stopped him. He is dead. They are dead too. Because of me Sammy.”_

Dean sounded… Sam had no idea what Dean sounded like. His voice so broken, so pleading for forgiveness and understanding and so filled with guilt that it hurt Sam physically like a blow to the stomach.

 _“They are bagging them.”_ Dean gulped.

And Sam knew that there was nothing more to have hope for. Should he hope that his dad had died quickly, no pain? That the people he had killed had died quickly as well? He had no idea.

He listened to Dean getting out of the impala, the familiar creek of her doors. The rumble of voices.

 _“I am going home to get you.”_ Dean told him.

“Yeah.” Get him? Get him for what?

 

It turned out that the police had a few questions and wanted their contact information. Dean as a witness to the incident. Sam… Sam had no idea why they wanted his. Possibly because he and Dean had been the last to see their dad alive? He honestly did not care, instead just gave them what they asked for.

They drove home in silence. The doors to the impala creaked like they used to. The house smelled like the remainder of the fight, Sam’s emotions a bitter undertone, barely even there for his less sensitive beta-nose.

“Can you forgive me Sammy?”

“Forgive you?”

“For not stopping him. For not doing better?”

“Dean. It was never your fault.” Sam tried, knowing that he would never convince his brother otherwise. Dean took on guilt like that. Blamed himself instead of blaming the ones who actually where to blame. Like Sam.

The look that Dean send him was devastating. So for his sake, Sam told him, that he forgave him for it.


End file.
